


clouds between our teeth

by uptownskunk



Series: some kind of fairy tale [1]
Category: Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, An Unspecified and Probably Inaccurate Historical Setting, Andrew Garfield Is My Spidey, Angst and Feels, Background Character Death, Background Peter Parker & Harry Osborn, Developing Relationship, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Eddie Brock Is A Softie, Established Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote, Gender-Neutral Venom, Hopeful Ending, Love at First Sight, M/M, Multi, Older Man/Younger Man, Other, POV Peter Parker, Pre-Threesome, Secret Identity, Sharing a Bed, Venom Uses Gender-Neutral Pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-19 11:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16533728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uptownskunk/pseuds/uptownskunk
Summary: Peter leaves home with only two roads before him: find proof of the existence of a long lost knight or start a whole new life far from the only home he had ever known.He doesn't expect the two roads to merge into one.He doesn't expectEddie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to elaborate on the Dubious Consent Due to Identity Issues tag on this: there’s no non-con/rape in this fic or anything that can be even remotely perceived that way. I felt the need to use this tag because for most of this fic, Peter isn’t aware that Venom exists. Peter thinks the guy he’s falling too quickly in love with is one (1) person, not a person and a symbiote, and while they don’t have sex before Peter knows (or at all in this fic), there is some mild sexual contact between Peter and Eddie while Peter isn’t aware that Venom is chilling in Eddie’s head the whole time and therefore hasn't consented to being in any kind of intimate situation with Venom there.

There is a story that's told in the village about a knight and the King and a treasure stolen by one from the other.

No one remembers the name of the knight anymore --- or, at least, they don't speak it.

And no one remembers exactly what the treasure was --- this they never knew to begin with.

But what everyone says is this: once upon a time many years ago, the King discovered a treasure hidden deep in the walls of his own castle and whatever this treasure was, the King coveted it more than he did anything else he owned. He kept it locked away in a dark room in the deepest part of the dungeons, and every day the King would make his way to that room and lock himself inside for hours on end, emerging late in the night looking both angered and haggard in equal parts. On and on this went, day after day, with the King's appearance becoming progressively more overwrought and his temperament becoming more and more severe, as he attended to his duties less and less until he was no longer attending to them at all.

At that point, his advisers became truly concerned but none of them wanted to face the King's wrath by trying to drag him away from his dank little room with its mysterious treasure hidden inside.

And so they implored this knight whose name has been lost or willfully forgotten by time to go into the King's treasure room and ask him to come away. To find out, at least, what his secret treasure was and whether it may be bewitching him, if there was some curse upon it forcing the King to stay by its side.

If the King became enraged at the knight, the advisers cared little as long as they had their answers.

if the King killed the knight in his rage, the advisers cared little for that either, they could always send in another.

And perhaps he knew how precarious his fate was or perhaps he didn't, but either way the knight agreed to their request and went into the room.

No one knows what words the knight spoke to the King or what was spoken to him, if anything was said between them at all.

No one knows what the treasure was.

But what everyone says is that the Knight stole the treasure and absconded with it out of the castle, away from the village and into the hills, and that when the King discovered the theft he screamed in fury and swore revenge and promised rewards beyond any man's wildest dreams if anyone could return to him the head of this thieving knight and the treasure he stole away with.

It has been twenty years since that time.

No one ever saw the knight or the stolen treasure again and the King still burns with rage hoping for its return.

At least, that's what they say.

\-------

When Harry suggests Peter go hunting for a man out of a  _fairy tale_ as a way to earn some coin, Peter thinks he's drunk.

When Harry suggests it  _again_ and leans forward to breathe heavily right into Peter's face to prove that  _no, Peter, I haven't been drinking, sheesh_ , Peter almost wishes he were drunk himself so he didn't have to listen to such nonsense.

"It's a stupid idea!" He insists to Harry, not for the first time, shaking his head vehemently just at the thought of it. "That old story about the knight stealing from the King is just something made up to entertain children and warn them not to have sticky fingers. It's not real! There's no knight and no treasure and even if there  _was_ , it's been twenty years. I doubt any man who stole from the King would even stay on the continent afterwards unless he had a death wish!"

But Harry is just as insistent as Peter is, not backing down an inch. "I'm telling you, I overheard Miron and my father---"

"Miron who your father didn't believe either." Peter interjects, scoffing. Miron the drunk, he thinks but doesn't say.

Harry glares at him like he heard Peter's thoughts anyway. "I overheard Miron telling my father that there's talk in a village not far from here about a set of armor found in a cave. Some children wandered in and saw it there,  _including_ the very uniquely designed shield the knight in the story is known to have carried."

"That doesn't mean it's  _the_ shield. Anyone could have had a replica made, everyone knows what the knight in the story's shield looked like." 

Harry snorts dismissively. "Who would have a shield made of silver and just abandon it in a cave somewhere, Peter? Not even the richest lords would waste their coin like that, and for what? To hope that someone might stumble upon it at some point in the future and do god only knows what with it? What would be the point?"

There wouldn't be a point, Peter knows. Every lord was miser in disguise and he couldn't think of any who would toss away a silver shield into a cave like trash, none who were eccentric enough or foolish enough to even consider it. But even then that didn't mean the next most logical explanation was what Harry thought it was.

"That still doesn't erase the possibility that these children lied or Miron lied and there were never any children telling the story to begin with." Both are plausible, much more than any explanation involving foolish lords or long lost knights. "We both know he's a drunk, Harry, he might have dreamed the whole thing up. It's a wild goose chase."

"Even if it is," Harry stresses. "it's not the only reason you should go."

And...oh. That's when it clicks for Peter, this wasn't about the knight's story at all. His breath catches in his throat and he can feel his stomach sinking. They'd discussed this before and Peter had stalled and avoided and brushed him off every time, but he should have known better than to think the subject was closed. "Harry---"

Harry shakes his head and he speaks quickly, voice edged with concern that makes Peter feel small and weak in the face of it. "No, Peter, we're not dancing around this any longer. I wish things were different. I wish I had my inheritance now so I could support you myself and I wish that there were more opportunities in this village for you, but Peter...your aunt died months ago, you sold off as much as you could to pay for her medicine while she was alive and you lost the house a month ago. You're barely making it and I...I don't know how much longer my father will be alright with you staying with us. What else are you going to do?"

Peter swallows thickly. "You know I'm trying to get back on my feet. You know that."

"I do know that." And Harry sounds so, so confident when he says it, too. Confident in Peter. "But you and I both know that sometimes trying isn't enough."

And Peter knows Harry is right, knows his words are true, but he still feels his cheeks burning and his heart twisting painfully in his chest at the shame of it anyway. This isn't the life his Aunt May had wanted him to have, he knew. She never wanted him to be stuck in debt because of her illness, never wanted him to struggle or face any kind of hardship ever again after having to experience losing his parents. She had only ever wanted him to be happy.

Peter tries very hard not to think to himself that he's glad she isn't alive to see him as anything but.

"I know you're right." Peter admits with a sigh and hates having to do it out loud, feels even more ashamed at actually speaking the words. "But do you really think chasing after some character from a fairy tale is going to fix all my problems? Or any of them?"

"What I think is that I have enough coin to get you to the next village and back to investigate these claims." Harry says plainly. "If they're true then all you need is a glimpse of the armor in that cave, see if the shield is there and if it matches the one in the stories and steal it away if it does and bring it back. My father will believe Miron's story if you have that shield and he'll take it to the King on his next trip to the capital. You'll be rewarded for it even if you don't deliver the man himself."

"And if the claims aren't true? If there's no shield and no Knight and the whole thing is made up?"

Harry grimaces. "If it's not true then there are more opportunities for a man in your position in that village then there ever will be here and the coin for the trip back will be enough to last you for awhile until you can get on your feet."

"You want me to run away from my problems, you mean." Peter says grimly.

"No, Peter." Harry sighs. "I mean for you to start a new life there better than anything this place has left to offer you."

Peter makes a doubtful noise in the back of his throat.

"Oh, don't be so ominous. It'll be an adventure at the very least." Harry tries for a smile. The falseness of it is obvious to Peter's eyes but it's not entirely a lie. He hangs on to the genuine edge of that expression, as small as it might be. "And how many times growing up did we wish we could go on one of those?"

\-------

Peter has to go.

Of course he does.

What else is left for him to do?

What other opportunities are going to present themselves if he stays where he is?

And besides, an adventure? Peter would be lying if he said there wasn't a part of him that was a bit excited, a bit curious.

A bit hopeful, even.

He pushes all of that down and keeps it to himself, doesn't say a word to Harry about any of it.

Voicing his hopes out loud had never done him any favors before and he doubts that would change now.

\-------

It takes a week's travel by horse at a steady pace to get from Peter's village to the next one over.

Harry provides him with the horse, enough provisions to last the journey, and more than enough coin to buy another week's provisions for the journey back --- or to start a new life right where he arrives in case coming back isn't in the cards.

Peter doesn't know which outcome he's hoping for. There's uncertainty in either direction as far as the eye can see. Worries in either direction, problems that will arise no matter what he finds at the end of this road. Peter decides then that the best thing to do is to not to think about it at all, to just to focus on his quest and worry about the fork in the road he knows is coming when he gets to it.

Ignoring his problems until he couldn't ignore them any more was a familiar routine, at least, even if it's the only familiarity he'll have with him on the whole damn trip.

"There's an inn, right on the outskirts of the village." Harry tells him as he's saddling up his horse. "I've written to Miron to arrange everything. He'll have you a room there ready for your arrival and as soon as you're rested up, he'll take you to these caves. It's only a few  hours away from the village. You'll have a look around and then---"

"Then I'll either find something worth bringing back or this will be the last time we'll see each other." Peter finishes.

Harry's face flashes, stricken. "It won't be the  _last_ time, Peter. It's not like you're going to another continent. We'll see each other again even if there's---there's nothing there. We'll write to each other."

Peter gnaws at his bottom lip. "But it won't be the same as it's always been."

"No, it won't be...but that doesn't have to be a bad thing."

The words strike a chord in Peter, reminding him of what Aunt May had told him after his parents had died and he had been shuffled of to live with her. Sometimes change happened for bad reasons, she'd said, but that doesn't mean the change itself will be terrible.

The situation isn't the same now, though. He didn't know whether that change would be good or bad then, either, but at least he had her. Now he won't have anyone.

Harry offers him a tired but genuine smile. "Haven't I told you not to be so ominous? Even if you stay there, you've got a thousand new experiences ahead of you. New people to meet, new things to do, new places to see. I'm the one whose going to be stuck here by my father's side all the time, learning dreadfully boring things around boringly dreadful people."

Peter snorts out a short laugh at that and hopes it doesn't sound as bitter to Harry's ears as it sounds to his own. "At least all that will be familiar to you, safe."

"Boring." Harry corrects dryly. "Absolutely boring."

"Then maybe you should be the one to go on this fool's quest instead?" It's a joke and it isn't. It would be so much better if they were doing this together and not just Peter on his own.

"Don't think I wouldn't if I could." Harry shoots back. "I envy you."

And that is a surprise to Peter, more so than anything else Harry has ever told him in the years they've known one another. Of all the times Peter wished he had the resources that Harry had? All the times he wished he was as rich or as handsome or as well-liked? All the times he'd felt small in Harry's shadow and even smaller still at feeling such a way? For Harry to say this to him?

"You envy me? What's there to envy?"

"Oh, plenty." Harry says it with confidence, so matter-of-factly that Peter marvels at it. "But right now, it's your freedom in particular."

Peter makes a noise of disbelief and Harry laughs. "No, really, Peter. Your life hasn't been easy and it's probably never going to be but you have more choices than I ever will. You can go where you want, be what you want, love who you want. You may not always have the means to make those choices---"

"And the means are everything, Harry." Peter interrupts dryly.

Harry just goes on like he didn't hear him. "But you still have the right to make them. There are so many things I would love to do but know I never can because there are expectations I have to meet that were set for me the minute I was born that won't allow for it. That's my lot in life and it probably seems a damn bit preferable to yours, but know that there have been plenty of times I've wished I could trade shoes with you if only for a day at a time. This is just another one of those times."

The words make him feel warm, touched, even as he thinks Harry is as mad as a hatter for thinking for a minute that anything about Peter's life is preferable to his own. Freedom might be a commodity worthy envying but so is food and good clothing and a warm place to sleep, things Peter has held varying amounts of desperation for at different points in his life. Harry may romanticize Peter's right to choose his own path but Harry had never gone hungry or cold and couldn't understand that for all the difficulties Peter's life has held, Peter has still been far luckier than most.

But Peter doesn't say any of that, of course.

He doesn't want to spoil the last time he sees his best friend --- for awhile, he hopes fervently, not forever --- with what would be a bitter retort about the privileges of nobility that would achieve nothing but to make them part in anger.

And so Peter offers Harry a smile that he hopes seems genuine enough and he embraces his friend in a hug that's returned eagerly and tightly as he says into the side of Harry's head with feeling, "I'll miss you."

Then he can feel the the firm press of a kiss in his hair, so quick Peter wonders if he's imagined it, before they're pulling away from one another and Harry's back to being an arm's length away, smiling at him in an expression that's tinged with as much happiness as it is sadness. "I'll miss you, too, Peter. Just make sure you write to me, okay? No matter what, you promise you'll write?"

Peter lets out a choked out laugh and nods. "I promise I'll write."

"I'll hold you to it." Harry tells him and Peter knows he means it. "But I...guess it's time for you to go."

"I guess it is."

"Well...alright then." Harry nods, almost to himself as he backs up slightly. "Goodbye, Peter, and...good luck."

Peter blinks back against a sudden sheen of wetness in his eyes and nods back. "Goodbye, Harry."

He checks over his horse one last time, making sure everything is there, before he climbs into the saddle and -- with one last small smile at Harry -- turns it around and starts riding away.

\-------

Peter only turns back in his saddle once.

He takes in the sight of Harry watching him leave until the other man's form blurs and finally disappears with distance.

Peter turns back around when he can no longer see anything of his friend at all, leaving him and the rest of his village behind Peter fading away like a dying light.

\-------

The plan Peter and Harry came up with is simple enough.

Peter will travel down the King's road until he comes to the inn outside the other village.

He'll check into the room Miron has arranged for him and then send word to Miron in the village that he's arrived.

They'll meet, Miron will take him to the caves, and Peter will investigate this supposed knight's shield if it's there at all.

If the shield is there, Peter will buy his supplies with the coin Harry gave him and take the evidence back with him to Harry.

If the shield isn't there....well, if it's not there then Peter will have until the coin runs out to figure out exactly what it is he wants to do with the rest of his life.

So, simple.

Of course, Peter could never actually be lucky enough to have everything go according to plan.

\-------

The journey itself goes off without a hitch.

The weather is warm for autumn, the King's road is a fairly straight and even path, and the horse Harry had given Peter was as docile as a house cat. He'd passed a few small caravans on the road, acknowledging them with a nod and a smile, and move along his way while they kept going in the opposite direction. His eyes couldn't get enough of the scenery, of land he'd never traveled before so full of lush greenery as far as the eyes could see, with every step taken showing him something new for the very first time and nothing but the birds twittering overhead and the rustling of the trees in the wind to distract him from the experience.

Peter makes it to the inn outside the village with no trouble at all, except for a tiredness in his eyes and an ache in his body, feeling a good deal more optimistic than he'd felt when he left home.

It's when he gets inside the inn that things go awry.

"I'm tellin' ya," the innkeeper insists to him, not for the first time since Peter came in. "I don't know anyone named Miron! Never seen 'em, never heard of 'em, sure as shit never had 'em book no room for anyone! We're all booked up, too, so no luck in gettin' a bed here tonight, boy!"

Peter bites down hard on his bottom lip so as to not scream at the man in frustration while his fingernails dig almost painfully into the wood of the innkeeper's bar.

Peter had come into the inn not long before, happy to arrive long before sunset, feeling more than a little worn out from the trip and desperately wanting nothing more than to wipe off whatever dirt he could with hot water and rags before sliding into an actual bed for the first time in days.

Peter should be used to not getting what he wants by now, really, he should.

The inn was mostly empty when he came in, just the innkeeper behind his bar and a tall man with closely shorn hair with his back to Peter, pittering with something on a table in the corner of the room. Peter had greeted the innkeeper before inquiring about the room Miron had booked for him.

Only to be met with complete and utter confusion about who in the world Miron even was.

"Are you sure," Peter asks again, fingertips tapping rhythmically against the wood now as tries valiantly to fight down the nervous panic crawling up his throat. "that you've never seen him? He's uh---a big guy, big gut? Grey hair? He has a scar running from his ear down his chin?"

The innkeeper sucks his teeth and Peter can see the man's own frustration with this conversation shining in his eyes, not that Peter can blame him. "Never."

Peter worries at his lip even more. "And---and no one else works here who might have---?"

The innkeeper lets out an explosive sigh, mouth twisting in an expression that says he's utterly done with Peter's questions and Peter himself, and Peter can feel anxiety jolting up his chest like a lightning bolt, can feel his brain starting a loop of oh fuck fuck fuck fuck you Miron this guy looks pissed what am I going to do fuck before he's reminded that he and the innkeeper aren't alone in the room.

The other man, the one whose back was to Peter earlier, sidles up to the bar at Peter's right and Peter is only just taking in the sight of a scruffy face and full lips twisting up in a friendly smile directed at the innkeeper before the man is speaking.

"Jakob, why don't you go pour yourself that nightcap I know you want and leave me to deal with the boy here, yeah?"

The innkeeper's expression smooths out and something like gratitude replaces it, making Peter feel like shit all at once for being such a bother. "You sure about that, Eddie?"

The man --- Eddie's eyes cut from Jakob over to Peter and he holds Peter's gaze for a stretched out moment that feels like it goes on forever to Peter, those eyes holding him to the spot before they're directed back to the other man. "I'm sure, we'll figure something out, alright? No need to worry about it."

And then the innkeeper is sighing in relief, nodding in agreement and leaving the room through a door behind the bar like he can't get away fast enough, leaving Peter alone with a strange man who is less than an arm's length away, taller than Peter and much bulkier and ---

And now totally looking right at Peter, eyes dragging their way up from taking in Peter's form the same way Peter had been taking in his to meet Peter's eyes again, okay.

Peter can feel his face heating and he  _knows_ his blush must be visible because he can see the other man's lips quirking in what Peter hopes is amusement.

"Tonight's just not doing it for you, is it?" Eddie asks him and even though the tilt of his lips is definitely amused, there's enough sympathy in his voice that Peter can at least feel like he's not being mocked.

He barks out a laugh, bringing a hand up to run through his hair, and Eddie's eyes jump up and follow the motion for a moment before they drop back down to capture Peter's own eyes again. For some reason, that just makes Peter feel all the more nervous. "Yeah, not doing it for me is an understatement, really."

The man raises a brow imploringly and Peter hurries to explain. "It's---I'm here to find something, to check something out really, for a friend. His father's, ah, business partner was supposed to arrange for me to have a room here and then I was supposed to send word to him and we were supposed to meet but---"

"But your friend's father's business partner is an unreliable prick who didn't do what he was supposed to and now you're stranded here with no place to bunk down for the night?" Eddie finishes for him, summing it up...pretty much entirely, yeah.

Peter smiles, small and fake and totally self-deprecating. "Got it in one."

Eddie hums and eyes Peter like he's a curiosity. "And what is it you're supposed to find for this friend of yours? It's a nice village, yeah, but I can't think of anything here worth going to all the trouble for that can't be ordered by courier."

Peter opens his mouth to answer but stops himself, hesitating, remembering suddenly how he had reacted when Harry had told him of his grand idea --- "It's a wild goose chase." he'd said, not once and not just twice either --- and how outlandish the entire thing suddenly seems in the face of telling another person about it.

"It's...it's kinda stupid, actually?" Peter ends up saying.

And if anything that just makes Eddie look at him with even more curiosity. "Oh, now you have to tell me. I've done some stupid things myself in my day and it's always nice to see younger people keeping the tradition alive."

Peter huffs out a laugh and licks his lips nervously, noting how the other man's eyes drop to track his movement once again and feeling not a bit less nervous because of it. "Okay, well...there's this fairy tale."

Eddie lets out a small laugh of his own and twists his amused expression into one of mock seriousness. "Alright, there's a fairy tale. What's this fairy tale about? A prince?"

"It's about a knight." Peter corrects, even as he feels his nerves sliding away as they speak little by little.

"Mmm, a knight." Eddie nods at this. "I approve already, never really liked those Prince Charmings, always a bit too stuck up for my tastes. And what's your knight doing in this story?"

"He's stealing something." Peter says and, feeling emboldened, continues. "From the King."

And Peter doesn't know why but suddenly there's...something about Eddie's expression that changes, too fast and too minutely for Peter to pinpoint what. It's like his expression had frozen over completely for just a split second.

But when he asks his next question, there's nothing in his voice to indicate anything but the same light amusement he had been speaking with before. "A knight who's a thief, very original. What did he steal?"

Peter supposes if he's in for a penny, he's in for a pound. "No one knows, really, just that he stole something, some kind of treasure, and the King was enraged over it and offered a reward for anyone who could find the knight or the treasure and bring them back."

"And that's what you're here for? Looking for a hidden treasure or a hidden knight to take back to the King and get a reward?"

"Not the treasure." Peter shakes his head. "No one knows what it is so it's not like I could find it without knowing, and I doubt the knight would still be sticking around after so long anyway. I'm looking for armor, the knight's armor. In the story he has a shield, silver with engravings of snapdragons in the center surrounded by lilac around the border. My friend and I, we heard that some children had seen a shield just like it in a cave not far from here."

"And so you're here to find it."

It's not a question, but a statement, said so flatly and completely devoid of any amusement it held earlier, so empty that it startles Peter and has him looking at Eddie in askance. His eyes hold Eddies and then----then for a moment Peter swears the man's entire irises and pupils are gone and there are nothing but two pools of pure, empty white where they should be.

But then Peter blinks.

He blinks and the eyes looking back at him are as human as the eyes Peter sees on his own face when he looks in the mirror and it's like they were never anything other than human to start with.

And before Peter can even think to feel confused, to question, to wonder if maybe he's more tired than he thought if he's seeing things, Eddie is speaking again and his voice is...normal. Still as lighthearted as before, if sounding a bit tired himself.

"You know, it's getting late and you still don't have anywhere to go."

And---ah, Peter had forgotten about that actually, so caught up in their conversation.

Eddie laughs as he registers what Peter is sure is a disgruntled look on his face and he sounds almost bashful when he says, "I, ah, I actually don't live that far from here? If you want to..." he trails off.

"Really?" Peter blurts out. And Peter knows, he knows that it's not a good idea to go anywhere with strangers, much less strange older men --- how many times had Aunt May told him that growing up? And god knows Harry would kill him if he did something so stupid, after he got done killing Miron for putting him in this position in the first place --- but still...

Still, there's something about Eddie that makes Peter want to trust him, that puts him at ease and makes him feel the same way as he feels when he's with Harry, the same as he feels when they're together on a lazy summer afternoon laying on their backs in the grass, shoulder to shoulder in the shade.

Comfortable.

He makes Peter feel comfortable.

Eddie is nodding, voice empty of any uncertainty that Peter can hear. "It's not any trouble and besides, you'd be doing me a favor," he nods his head in the direction of the table he'd been standing over earlier where Peter can now see there are two wooden chests stacked on top of one another. "if you could help me carry one of those? You'll be saving me from having to make two trips and that's worth a night's stay, at least. Or however long it'll take to get things sorted out."

And even if Peter wanted to say no, what are his other options? There are no empty rooms at the inn. Camping outside for another night is the most unattractive thing he can think of right now. It's not like he knows anyone in this village he can ask for board from, either, except for maybe Miron and god only knows where he is or if he's even in the village right now at all.

But the thing is, Peter doesn't want to say no. The reasons not to are compelling but they're also convenient.

He's nice and he's charming and he presumably has somewhere I can sleep that isn't the ground outside, and it's not like this night could get any worse anyway.

And so Peter finds himself agreeing.

"That would really be great, yeah." Peter smiles and hopes his gratitude shines through. "If you're alright with it."

Eddie smiles back at him, his eyes --- his very green eyes --- sparkling and Peter didn't actually think people's eyes sparkled but that's definitely what Eddie's are doing right now. "I'm alright with it, so shall we---?"

He nods his head toward the chests and Peter nods enthusiastically in agreement. They're just to the table to get them when Eddie stops short, body stilling and causing Peter to still, too, in confused concern.

"There's actually one more thing---" Eddie says, chuckling and shooting Peter a grin. "I feel like an ass for not asking sooner but I never got your name?"

And he's not the only one feeling like an ass. Peter can feel his face burning again and hopes it's not noticeable this time. "Oh! It's my fault, I should have---um, Peter. Peter Parker, it's nice to meet you."

Peter holds out his hand on reflex and doesn't have the time to second guess whether it was a stupid thing to do before Eddie's hand in enveloping his, dwarfing his hand and surrounding it in a strong, warm grip. He doesn't shake Peter's hand, just holds it tightly. Not tight enough to hurt but enough that Peter can feel the strength in it.

It makes a pleasant shiver crawl up his skin.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, too, Peter Parker. I'm Eddie Brock."

\-------

Peter's no weakling or anything but the chest Eddie has him carry holds enough of a weight to it that by the time they make it down the thin little path hidden in a copse of trees not far from the inn --- a path that Peter hadn't even noticed until Eddie pointed it out to him --- to Eddie's home where it was tucked away in a small clearing in the forest, his arms have started to ache from the strain of it.

Eddie, for his part, doesn't look like the much larger chest he's hauling is giving him any trouble at all. When they arrive at his front door and he balances the container on one lifted knee, holding it in place with a single hand so he can twist the doorknob and push the door open with the other, he doesn't so much as wobble from it.

Peter is kind of envious of that easy strength even as he admires it.

The house itself is a large cabin, dark mahogany wood making up the building with a roof colored red that has a chimney shooting out the center of it. Off to the side Peter can see a well with a pump and a good-sized garden filled with viney plants and little orange and yellow shapes tucked in their greenery, and he can hear clucking coming from around the corner, coming from what he assumes are chickens even if he can't see them.

It's not a gingerbread house but it reminds Peter of a fairy tale all the same and he forces himself not to snort out loud in the irony of it.

Eddie goes inside first and Peter enters after him, blinking as he takes in the interior.

The room they're in is a single large open space, the fireplace that the chimney is attached to sitting in the center of the back wall with high windows on either side of it and a giant worn looking rug laying on the floor in front of it. A large bed with a hope chest at the foot is pressed in a corner on the far left side of the room and a large table and two comfortable looking chairs sit in the corner of the right side. Shelves packed with books and chests and jars of brightly colored things and all sorts of other odds and ends Peter can't identify from the door cover most of the available wall.

The house is larger than the one Peter had shared with Aunt May, which may have held its own individual rooms with their own doors but they were still small rooms that could probably fit right in Eddie's open layout and leave room to spare. Still, it's nowhere near as large as Osborn Manor or as empty. It also doesn't make Peter feel nearly as out of place or as cold.

It's cozy. Lived in. Not just a house, but a home.

Osborn Manor was nothing like that, even with Harry there to make the mausoleum like building feel a little more welcoming, and his home with Aunt May hadn't felt right since she was healthy and alive and their two-person family still whole.

"You can just drop it wherever." Eddie tells him, breaking him from his observations as he follows his own advice and lets his own chest drop to the floor with a thump.

"Ah, sure!" Peter rushes to obey, sitting his own chest down more softly next to the other, happy to be able to let go of the weight. "What's in these anyway?"

"Supplies, mostly." Eddie says, waving a hand in the direction of his work table. "Parchment, bottled inks, bottled paints, things to crush up and make more of those."

Peter doesn't know what he expected, but he's still somewhat surprised. "You're a painter?"

"Of a sort." Eddie grins. "I paint for manuscripts, mostly. Do a bit of book copying, too, just the text. Here, lets see---"

He walks to the nearest shelf and pulls out a thin little volume, walking back over to hand it to Peter.

Peter opens it and reads  _Flowers of the Rainy Northeast_ written out in flowing black calligraphy on the title page, with small vivid paintings of blue and purple flowers on green vines creeping around the borders. He flips through it and sees more beautiful flowers, painted in stunning detail and colors unlike anything Peter had ever seen, even in the illuminated books at Osborn Manor, with elegantly written descriptions of them on every page in the same hand that the title was in.

So much work went into it. The amount of detail is stunning and leaves Peter in awe. He runs his fingertips along the text and feels the indent of the writing in the paper where a quill had pressed down on the page.

He tears his eyes away from it to find Eddie watching him with a soft expression that makes Peter feel suddenly like he'd been caught doing something private. He closes the book and hands it back, clearing his throat. "It's beautiful, Eddie. You did all of it?"

Eddie nods, taking the book back to the shelf to slide it back into its place. "Got commissioned for that one by a lord who wanted to give it as gift to his bride, but the wedding never happened and the lord said he didn't want the book anymore. He didn't want his payment back, though, so I couldn't be mad about it. Didn't want to waste it by throwing it out so I've hanged on to it."

"You're talented." Peter tells him honestly.

But Eddie shakes his head, brushing the compliment off. "It's nothing, really. Anyone who practices at it can improve and artists these days are a dime a dozen, all hoping they're lucky enough to get a patron to notice them and raise them up in society."

"And you don't want that?" Peter blurts the question out and then cringes at the nosiness of it. "I mean---"

"I'm living off the beaten path a bit here?" Eddie laughs, unbothered by the question. "Yeah, I used to...live in the capital. Had a different career, different lifestyle, whole different life. Never in a million years would have imagined I'd be living in a cabin like this in a village."

"What---what happened?"

Eddie hesitates for such a long moment that Peter thinks he won't answer but then he shrugs and says simply, "Hit a rough patch, went through some things that were completely unexpected. Turned my whole damn life on its head. Getting away from all of that seemed like the best thing to do."

And Peter can relate to that, to all of it. The words ring so familiar to him they might as well have come from his own mouth. "Yeah, I get that."

"Yeah?" Eddie's mouth quirks up in a playful smirk. "Hence your fairy tale quest?"

Peter huffs out a laugh. "Yeah, hence that."

"And you're serious about it?" Eddie prompts, voice light and curious. "I mean, it's not just a lark you and your friend thought up? Some find a hidden treasure, fight a dragon, rescue a princess sort of thing?"

"I don't think dragons are actually real." Peter says wryly.

"Maybe not." Eddie concedes, tone just as dry as Peter's. "But most things found in fairy tales aren't, maybe including what you're looking for. How sure are you that you're going to find it?"

"I'm not here to just to look for the shield to take back." Peter admits. "I mean---that part is true but..."

"But not the whole truth?"

"No." Peter sighs. "Not the whole truth. I---guess you could say I hit a rough patch of my own back home and things kind of went from bad to worse. There wasn't anything else for me to do or--or be, nowhere to go. I could barely stand on my own two feet and---" he trails off, hot shame churning in his stomach and making it feel sour.

"And getting a reward for finding proof of this missing knight will help you do that." Eddie finishes for him, says more than asks, lips pulled down to a frown as he fully takes in Peter's situation. "What if you don't find it? I mean, it's a long shot, you've gotta know that? What's the back-up plan?"

Peter laughs shortly, derisively. "Yeah, I know that. I don't really expect to find anything, I guess, not really. I didn't even believe the story when Harry told me about it, but...I couldn't stay back in my village anymore. There are more opportunities here, I've got more of a chance to make something of myself. The whole quest was a latch ditch excuse but Harry, he---he made sure I have enough to keep me until I could get on my own feet here if I didn't find anything worth bringing home."

Eddie hums, looking at Peter more contemplatively now but still kindly.

Peter hated having to admit all of it, hated feeling like less of an adult, less of a man, but some of the sting of it is taken out because of who he's telling it to. Peter doesn't feel like he's being judged, doesn't think Eddie is the type to judge and Peter has had plenty of experience in telling a judgmental look from one that wasn't to know by now.

He just feels...safe. At ease. Like he's known Eddie for months or years and not just hours.

It makes him feel less like he wants to crawl in a hole and die at admitting his own failings and more like he just wants to crawl into a bed and hide for a few hours.

"Your friend sounds like a good guy." Eddie finally says and leaves it at that, much to Peter's relief. That he isn't digging deeper and is willing to let things lie is just another kindness towards Peter in a night full of them.

"He is." Peter agrees easily. "He's the best."

Eddie opens his mouth to say something else but whatever it was, he stops short as his eyes cut from Peter's to the side of the room. He makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat before returning his gaze back to Peter, an apologetic look in his eyes.

"Your friend might be the best but I'm an absolute ass."

There is no one who is less of an ass than you are, Peter thinks immediately in surprise. "What are you---"

"Sun's going down." Eddie gestures over to the windows and---

Oh, he's right. The light filtering through the room is a lot dimmer now than it was when they came in, casting a soft orange glow across the open space. How long had they been standing here talking?

"You're probably exhausted, fuck." Eddie rubs a hand over his head. "You can go ahead and take the bed, I'll---"

The bed? The one bed in the place? "But where are you going to sleep?"

Eddie blinks at him. "Well, the floor---"

Oh no, no, no, Peter couldn't be that much of a jerk. Not when the other man had been nothing but incredibly kind to him. "I can't just---kick you out of your own bed onto the floor!"

"You're not kicking me out." Eddie reassures him. "I'm offering."

"And it's a nice offer!" Peter insists, not wanting to sound ungrateful because that's the last thing he is right now. "Really, it's nice, you're nice! But it would still make me the worst guest in the world to take you up on it! If anyone should be on the floor, it should be me!"

Eddie laughs at that. "And I'd be the worst host in the world to take you up on that. No, Peter, I can't let you sleep on the floor."

And neither of them is going to get any sleep at this rate. Peter resists the urge to laugh in frustrated amusement. What else can they---

Oh. Peter's eyes dart over to the bed, eyeing the large surface of it and licking his lips nervously in thought.

Well, there's one other option.

"I mean, it's--it's a big bed. We could, I mean---"

"Share?" Eddie finishes for him, brows shooting up in surprise.

Peter's face flushes.

"If that, I mean," Peter find himself tripping on his words and wants the ground to swallow him. "If that works for you?"

Eddie looks not just hesitant but truly apprehensive for the first time since they'd met --- more than when he'd approached Peter at the inn, more than when he'd invited Peter back here --- and it nearly makes Peter want to take the offer back, insist that he sleep on the floor. God, what kind of person offers to let a stranger crawl into bed with him? If Harry were here, he'd be screaming at Peter about how stupid he is.

Or he'd be laughing his ass of at Peter, more likely.

Peter makes a mental note to never tell Harry about any of this.

But before he can take the idea off the table entirely, Eddie is nodding almost to himself and agreeing to it. "Alright, yeah."

"Yeah?" Peter parrots dumbly.

"Yeah, it's a big bed. There's no reason not to share."

"Okay, yeah---" Peter nods nervously, swallowing. "Yeah, that's okay. We'll share the bed."

And then neither of them make any move.

They both just stand there awkwardly and Peter resists the urge to fidget in place, unsure of what to say or to do.

Eddie finally clears his throat to break the quiet and lets out a nervous laugh after. "We're acting like two fair ladies at a ball waiting to see who asks who to dance first."

Peter relaxes at the joke, feeling a bit less out of place because of it and thankful for it.

He's good at that, at making people comfortable around him. Peter's been noticing that all night.

"I've never been to a ball so I wouldn't really know." Peter tosses back, going for a flippant tone that didn't betray the hummingbird beat of his heart and happy when it gets him a quick appreciative grin.

"They're as dull as you can imagine." Eddie snorts in derision. "Never a conversation had at them that are anything near as interesting as anything we've talked about tonight."

"Fair ladies not interested in fairy tale knights?"

Eddie barks out a laugh at that loud enough to make Peter jump and he smiles at Peter in absolute delight, like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Oh, you'd be surprised. I don't think your mystery knight would have been popular with that crowd."

And Peter opens his mouth to ask why, to banter more, but he finds his words caught in a yawn he can't stop.

Eddie's smiles softens down a few notches and he sighs. "And I'm still being an ass and keeping you awake."

"I don't mind." Peter tells him honestly even as he blinks at the other man tiredly, the weight of the day and all the days prior weighing down on him.

"Yeah, but I do." Eddie jerks his head in the direction of the bed. "Why don't you head on and go to sleep?"

"What about you? I thought--"

"I've got to unpack those chests we brought in." Eddie tells him. "And I usually stay up late doing a bit of work before bed anyway. This is a bit early for me even if the sun is down, I'll be up for a while yet."

Peter bites at his lip. "As long as you don't try sleeping on the floor---"

Eddie chuckles and raises his hands up in mock surrender. "I promise you I won't insult your reputation as a good guest of house Brock by sleeping on the floor. You'll wake up to find me drooling on my side of the bed in the morning, cross my heart."

And Peter is too exhausted to argue, dead on his feet as he's feeling now. The soft looking bed in the corner and the blankets across it call to him like a siren.

"Well, alright...but I'm holding you to it!"

\-------

Eddie's bed feels as soft as laying on a cloud, his blankets wrapping Peter in warmth and a light masculine smell like sandalwood and cedar.

Peter never would have thought that he'd be able to sleep easily in a bed that wasn't his own. It had taken him years when his parents died, after he started living with Aunt May, to fall into an easy rest in his new bedroom and he'd never been able to sleep without tossing and turning for hours in the guest room at Osborn Manor he'd moved into after May had died and he couldn't afford to keep the house any longer.

But when Peter crawls into Eddie's bed and pulls the blankets around him, he's out seconds after his head hits the pillow, letting the sound of Eddie tinkering around in the background carry him off to sleep like a lullaby sung just for him.

\-------

Peter only wakes once in the middle of the night, still wrapped in warmth where his body is cocooned under the covers and most of his mind still occupied in dream land.

Soft voices lightly pull at him from where his head is still muzzy with sleep and warmth---

_**...looking for...sell us....eat him...** _

_We're not going to...a good guy...figure something out..._

\---and then he makes a small noise of confusion, shifts a little in bed, and the sounds die instantly.

Peter blinks blearily into the darkness of his cocoon a few times, ears straining to listen for more noise that doesn't come, before his eyes slide shut again and don't reopen.

He falls back asleep, not even registering the feel of a hand running down his head or the covers being tucked more tightly around him.

\-------

When Peter wakes again, soft morning light is tickling at his eyelids and a steady heartbeat is thumping away steadily under his ear.

It's the latter that has him blinking his eyes open in confusion, squinting slightly as the sunlight filtering down through window stings them. He tries to push himself up from the bed with a hand steadied on the mattress but runs into two problems immediately---

One: the arm wrapped around him, holding him like an inescapable band against a firm, solid mass.

And two: the fact that the mattress isn't a mattress at all because last Peter checked, mattresses didn't  _breathe_ .

People did, though. People like Eddie who Peter is all but draped across, whose chest Peter's palm is splayed out over, whose arm is wrapped around Peter's back, and whose hand is gripping at Peter's hip holding Peter securely against him.

Eddie whose eyes are still closed and face is still relaxed in sleep even with the gentle morning light shining on him, looking softer than he had he night before but no less handsome because of it. If anything, the lighting makes him look even more---

Peter's heart jumps at that line of thought and he finds himself flushing hotly over it even as he tries to hurriedly stop it in its tracks. Eddie  is handsome, sure, but that didn't make it okay for Peter to stare at him while he slept like some creep, no matter how handsome and kind and generous and---

And that's the exact  _opposite_ of stopping the thoughts, Peter scolds himself, feeling his cheeks burning hotter and  _so_ happy that Eddie wasn't awake to see it. 

But how long was he going to sleep for? What if he woke up and found Peter curled against him?

Peter gnaws at his lip nervously and then decides it would be best if he moved before that happened. So slowly and _oh_ so carefully he shifts his body to try to extricate himself out from under Eddie's arm---

Only to have the hand at his hip tighten even further and pull Peter closer in, making Peter let out a small reflexive squeak of surprise at the noise. He freezes at the sound and darts a glance up at Eddie's face, breathing out an uneven sigh of relief at seeing the man's eyes still closed in sleep.

Well, alright then. _That_ didn’t work.

Trying a different route, Peter hesitantly reaches out to the hand gripping at his hip, shivering pleasantly when his fingertips make contact with the man’s skin, noting that it’s just as warm as it was when they’d shaken hands the night before. Swallowing thickly, he tries to gently pry Eddie’s fingers away from him.

Peter is just sliding his own fingers underneath Eddie’s when the man lets out a loud groan that has him freezing.

“Mmm, Ven? Wha’s goin’ on?” Eddie mumbles as he blinks his eyes open sleepily, looking at Peter in a way that Peter can privately admit to himself is adorable, a word he didn’t think would fit a man so mature and scruffy but it fits Eddie perfectly.

And when Eddie’s lips slide into a slow, warm smile, well...that’s a bit more than just adorable.

“Hey.” Peter says lamely, cringing internally at the crack in his voice.

“Hey.” Eddie repeats softly, licking at his dry lips and leaving them shiny and pink with saliva.

Peter isn’t going to stare. Peter isn’t---

Eddie’s hand at Peter’s hip squeezes Peter’s fingers where they’re still under his hand and Peter is suddenly reminded of their position, still pressed together so closely Peter can feel the movement of Eddie’s breath along his own body like a pulse.

“Mm, sorry.” Eddie’s smile takes an apologetic edge to it. “Always been a cuddler, I should’ve taken the floor last night after all.”

“What? No, no, it’s my fault. I’m the one all over you, not the other way around.”

Eddie hesitates but then surprises Peter by saying, “I don’t mind.”

Peter blinks at him dumbly. “You don’t?”

“Well...it’s nice.” The tone in his voice is bashful and so, so soft. “Isn’t it?”

And other than Peter’s unending _awkwardness_ at his own behavior and feelings...yeah, it is nice.

He’d never been held by anyone who wasn’t family before. He and Harry had hugged, yeah, sometimes long hugs that seemed to go on forever but they’d never rested together like this, never slept in the same bed, never held each other just for the sake of it.

He’d never done anything like this, something that felt so warm and comfortable and _intimate_ _._

So, yeah, he agrees. “Yeah, it---it’s nice.”

Eddie hums at that and Peter can feel the vibrations of the sound run through his own body. The hand at his hip holding onto Peter’s own fingers loosens and hesitatingly, Peter extracts his hand and brings it back to rest on Eddie’s sternum, and --- with more slow, careful movements --- relaxes his body back down against Eddie’s, lowering his head back on the man’s chest the way it was when he first woke up.

He can hear Eddie’s heart beating in his ear, rabbit fast and muffled like he was hearing it over the sound of ocean waves.

He swallows hard and lets out a shaky sigh that Eddie echoes moments later with a long exhale of his own.

The fingers at Peter’s hip stutter and then start caressing in slow circles over his clothing, fingertips drawing little shapes against Peter’s hip bone with nothing but gentleness in the touch, and Peter is pretty sure he’s in love.

The thought comes so easily. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Peter’s in love, and logically --- _logically_ \--- Peter knows it’s insane. He’s known Eddie for little over a day and no one falls in love in a _day_. He didn’t know anything about the man, didn’t even know exactly how old he is or where he’s from or who his family is, if he has any family at all.

Logically, Peter knows all that.

But _illogically_ , his whole body is flooded in another person’s warmth and scent and there’s a heartbeat in his ear as loud as his own thoughts and from the first time he had met Eddie’s eyes with his own, Peter had felt like something he’d been missing had finally slotted into place.

Illogically, Peter is pretty sure if he tilted his head up right now he’d find Eddie’s eyes looking down at him and it would be nothing but natural to tilt his head up, meet the man’s lips with his own, and have his very first kiss with a man he barely knew in a bed he’d only spent a single night in with the morning light shining down on them.

Peter has to fight that illogical down with all the strength he has to keep his head down, to not look up, to not go from pretty sure to certain.

And he feels nothing but disappointed in making that choice.

“I’ve been thinking.” Eddie says, breaking Peter out of his thoughts. “If you can’t get a hold of the guy who was supposed to show you those caves---”

“Miron.” Peter murmurs back.

“Mmm, yes, Miron the flaky prick.” Eddie drawls and Peter snorts a laugh into his chest. “If you can’t get a hold of _Miron_ , I wouldn’t mind taking you to the caves myself.”

“Really? I mean,” Peter bites his lip nervously. “I’d think you’d be getting bored of me by now.”

Eddie chuckles at that, the sound shaking Peter where he lays against him. “Believe me when I say you’re one of the least boring people I’ve ever met. Top two most interesting, even.”

Peter makes a curious noise. “Top two? Who’s the other one?”

Eddie tenses so minutely, so quickly before he’s relaxed again that Peter almost wonders if he imagined it.“Ah, now _that_...is definitely a story for later.”

It’s a dodge and an obvious one at that. Peter is familiar enough with dodging touchy topics himself to recognize it when someone else does it. And though a part of him that’s filled with curious fascination with Eddie wants to push, wants to ask for the story _now_ , Peter is also familiar enough with how horrible and invasive it felt when people ignored his dodging and pushed anyway to know better than to do it himself.

Besides, Eddie hadn’t pushed Peter for more information about himself the night before and it was only fair of Peter to return the kindness.

“Alright, later.” Peter agrees, pushing his curiosity aside. “But the caves--?”

Eddie’s hand pauses in its light touches at Peter’s hip to give him a short squeeze that feels like gratitude before resuming their gentle pattern. “The caves are a few hours walk from here. If we leave early in the morning, we can be there and back before nightfall.”

Peter raises his head up from Eddie’s chest to look at him in surprise. Their eyes meet immediately, Eddie _was_ looking down at him, but Peter forces himself not to focus on the observation or let it lead back to his prior thoughts. “ _Th_ _is_ morning?”

“Ah,” Eddie grimaces. “I have some things to do today that I can’t get out of. I should actually be leaving soon for that, by the way.”

“Oh.” Peter blinks and he shouldn’t be surprised, really, they’d just met the night before. Of course Eddie had a life, had plans for things to do with it, that couldn’t stop just to help Peter.

“But tomorrow?” Eddie suggests instead, offering a small smile. “If you don’t mind sticking around for another night, at least.”

And Peter really doesn’t mind sticking around for another night at _all_ , but. “Shouldn’t I be asking you if _you_ mind? I’m the one who keeps imposing on you, I---I don’t want to take advantage.”

Eddie laughs softly, eyes as soft as his laugh and so _fond_ as he looks at Peter that it makes Peter feel like he has butterflies in his stomach _._ “It’s not taking advantage if I keep offering.”

“And,” Peter licks his lips nervously. “why do you? Keep offering? It’s---it’s not that I don’t appreciate... _everything_ , really, I do, it’s just that. Most people aren’t this nice. To me. They’re not this nice to _me_ , I mean.”

“Most people are assholes, then.” Eddie says immediately.

Peter laughs, a sound a little more watery than he’d have liked, and he can’t stop himself from grinning a little. “Yeah, yeah they are but...but you’re not. Not to me. Why aren’t you?”

Eddie hesitates and his face is so open, so _vulnerable_ that Peter feels like he’s been physically struck by it. The men he’d known had never allowed themselves to look so expressive, not for anything other than anger on occasion, not for _anything_ that could make them look weak. Even Harry, who was Peter’s closest friend and hardly like most other men either, still held himself apart from his emotions. Distanced himself from them, never let them out in the open for too long.

“When we met, when we looked at each other, I felt...” Eddie breaks off with a sigh, brows furrowing in like he didn’t know how to put it into words.

And Peter would have been confused, maybe, if he didn’t already know exactly what Eddie meant. If he hadn’t experienced the exact same thing.

“You felt.” Peter says simply. Not a question, not a lead, just...a statement. On its own. There isn’t a need for any other explanation, because Peter knows now --- wondrously, _illogically_ \---- that they both know what it means.

But Eddie doesn’t know that Peter knows.

Eddie eyes him, the look questioning, and gives the shortest, smallest nod, barely a movement at all. “Yeah...I felt.” Then with a hopeful tinge crawling into his voice. “And did you---”

“Yes.” Peter blurts, then immediately feels his cheeks burn in a blush. “Y-yes, yeah, I...I felt, too.”

“Oh.” It comes out shakily, Eddie looking at Peter with eyes wide with wonder and Peter looking back, caught and lost and---

He’s not sure how it happens.

Just that one minute Peter is laying against Eddie’s side, looking up at him like he’d never looked at another person before in his life, and the next his back is against the mattress and Eddie is a firm weight pressed flush along his front, a warm hand cupping his jaw, tilting his head up to catch Peter’s mouth with his.

And they’re kissing.

They’re _kissing_ and Eddie’s scruff is scratching the skin of Peter’s face and his lips are against Peter’s lips, his tongue running over them before slipping inside Peter’s mouth to coax at Peter’s own tongue with his, and Peter doesn’t know what to _do_ but he tries to mimic Eddie’s movements and that must be the right thing because Eddie moans into his mouth and Peter’s hands, grasping at Eddie’s back, clench and claw into his shirt covered shoulders reflexively at the sound.

And then he feels something hard and heavy thrust right between his legs, Eddie’s hard cock, he realizes, thrusting right into Peter’s own, and he can’t stop the strangled mewl that crawls its way up his throat at the jolt of arousal the thrust sends through him, the sound muffled only by Eddie’s mouth on his.

But a moment later he wishes he’d been able to keep the noise down entirely because it has Eddie freezing on top of him, going still and slowly pulling his mouth off Peter’s.

Peter eyes flutter back open to see Eddie’s face above him, his green eyes shining with heat and his lips spit-slick and swollen.

Eddie still cradles Peter’s face with one hand and his thumb brushes across Peter’s cheekbone in a gentle caress that somehow feels more intimate than the way their cocks are still pressed together between them, nothing but clothing separating them, and Peter thinks, truly, that this moment could go on forever and he could die happy. He thinks he’s never been so sure of anything in his entire life.

But in the next second, Eddie is rolling off of him without a word and leaving Peter cold along his front where he had been pressed.

They both lay on their backs on the bed, panting into the sunlight lit room, and Peter can feel the hazy pleasure his head had been swimming with slipping away rapidly with the last bit of Eddie’s borrowed body heat, replaced by a jolt of anxiety slamming into his chest that makes him want to either cry or laugh hysterically or _both_ , he doesn’t know.

His voice is more than a little strangled when he says, “Hey, didn’t---didn’t you have something you needed to do today? Something---you said you’d need to leave soon? Earlier? You---”

Peter’s mouth closes with a click and he swallows thickly, pushing down the panic, pushing down the voice in his head asking him _why_ he was panicking at all.

Peter can see Eddie’s head turn to look at him out of the corner of his eye and he very resolutely refuses to turn and look back, feeling like if he did he’d fall apart. He keeps his eyes glued to the ceiling and counts to ten, then 20, then 30 in his head, focusing on his breathing.

When Eddie finally speaks, his voice is half-hoarse and heavy with.... _something_ , Peter can’t identify. “Yeah, yeah I did.”

And then there’s more silence before Eddie is getting up off the bed, _away_ from Peter, taking a moment to gather some things up on the other side of the room that Peter can’t see from his watch on the ceiling, and he’s heading toward the door to leave.

He stops short and Peter can’t see him but somehow he just knows Eddie’s looking in his direction.

“I’ll be back tonight before it gets dark.” His voice still hoarse but with less of the thick emotion that was in it before. “And then we’ll talk.”

His words are a promise that he leaves with, going out the door and closing it behind him with a soft click.

It’s only after hearing him leave that Peter lets his eyes slide shut and sighs heavily, looking away from the ceiling at last.

\-------

Ostensibly, there are a _million_ problems with all of this that Peter can see, the main glaring one being that he doesn’t actually know who Eddie Brock is at all.

Sure, Peter can _feel_ like he knows Eddie all he wants, but the fact remains that it had still only been less than two days since they’d met and Peter is already---

Already what?

In love?

In _lust_?

So enamored with having someone who looks at him and sees him, who doesn’t judge him, who holds him and speaks to him gently, who lets Peter just be Peter and lets him feel like that’s enough on its own --- is he so enamored with all of that that he doesn’t really care if it’s all too good to be true?

Because that’s what his biggest fear is, really.

Good things didn’t happen to Peter Parker. He has eighteen years of life as his proof of that. Good things didn’t just _happen_ to him and when they did, they didn’t _stick_.

Things were either bad from the start or they were good and then that goodness would end and things would be even worse than before because he would know what it was like to have something precious in his life only to lose it.

There. Peter’s life in a nutshell.

So Eddie is kind and comfortable and handsome and into Peter _now_ , fine, but if Peter’s life keeps true to form then that wouldn’t last, there would be a shoe hanging somewhere out of sight just waiting to drop, probably right on Peter’s head.

 _Don’t be so ominous, Peter._ Harry’s words at the start of his journey ring in Peter’s head and he snorts without amusement at remembering them.

The opposite of ominous is hopeful and Peter doesn’t know if he can afford to be hopeful about something like this, about his very heart. He doesn’t know if he can take having it broken if his hopes amount to nothing like they have so many times before.

Those are the problems.

That’s what the small, bitter, pessimistic, _ominous_ part of his brain is telling him.

But there’s another part of Peter, that _heart_ he wants so badly to protect, that tells him something else.

That tells him it’s worth it to hope because it’s only when you have hope that your wishes can come true.

\-------

Peter can only stay in bed thinking, thinking, and thinking some more for so long.

At some point he pulls himself out of it and, after casting a curious glance around the room, decides it wouldn’t be _too_ invasive to take a cursory look around. Eddie hadn’t warned him away from anything and besides, the man had had his tongue in Peter’s mouth.

Peter figures that gives him permission to poke around his bookshelves, at the very least.

\-------

By the time Eddie returns, the sunlight drifting in through the windows has taken on an orange tint and Peter is curled up in one of the chairs by Eddie’s work table with his legs curled underneath him, a large tome about astronomy he’d been lost in for hours open in his lap.

He looks up from the book at the sound of the door opening and freezes, nervous butterflies starting to beat their wings in his belly, as he watches Eddie come through it, basket in hand that he hadn’t had when he left earlier.

Eddie’s eyes scan over the room searchingly and when they finally land on Peter, he freezes too before giving Peter a hesitant little smile that Peter reflexively returns.

“Hi.” Eddie raises the basket in front of him, holding it dangling on two fingers. “I have dinner.”

“Hi.” Peter echoes, closing the book in his lap without looking at it, without looking away from _Eddie_. “I have an empty stomach.”

Eddie laughs at that, a genuine sound that makes Peter feel more at ease _instantly_. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of food before I left this morning, I---ah, this morning was---”

 _Don’t say a mistake._ Peter thinks frantically.

“Rushed.” Eddie finishes. “ _Not_ that I didn’t enjoy it because I did, but it was---”

“Too fast.” Peter interrupts quietly, biting his lip.

Eddie nods in agreement, his lips twitching like they didn’t know what expression to settle into. “Yeah, too fast. I mean, _everything_ has been fast but that’s... _different_. There are---things we should know about one another, things _you_ should know about _me_ before we---”

‘ _Before we?’_

“You mean you still want to?” Peter blurts in surprise.

Eddie blinks at him, taken aback. “Yes? I mean, yes. _Yes_ , of course.” He clears his throat then, his voice uncertain. “Unless, I mean---unless you don’t---”

Peter shakes his head, standing up from the chair and sitting his book quietly on the table, the movement stopping Eddie in his tracks and wiping any trace of expression from his face, causing Peter to rush to explain. “No, no, Eddie, I _do_ want to.”

“You do.” Eddie says faintly. “Then why do I feel like there’s a but in there after that?”

“I do want to, _but_ ” Peter sighs. “Look, things like this don’t happen to me.”

Eddie huffs out an incredulous little laugh. “Sweetheart, things like this don’t happen to me all that much, either.”

And while Peter feels his face flushing at being called _sweetheart_ , that’s not what he meant. “No, I mean... _good thing_ don’t happen to me, okay?”

Eddie’s brows furrow down and he frowns deeply. “Peter--”

“No, no, I mean it!” Peter rushes. “For my _whole_ life, it’s like every good thing I ever had has only been temporary. Sure I can have it for awhile but eventually it’s _always_ taken away. It happened with my parents, with—with my aunt, with our home, with _everything_.”

“Peter, that doesn’t mean---it doesn’t mean that you can’t have _good things_ in your life at all.” Eddie says, exasperation in his voice. “It doesn’t mean you don’t deserve them and it doesn’t _mean_ that anything bad will happen between us if you let something happen between us at all.”

Peter makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “But I don’t know that!”

“Peter.” Eddie says softly with a gentle, if a bit wobbly, smile on his face as he drops the basket in his hand to the floor and approaches Peter slowly, his hands relaxed at his sides, like someone might approach a skittish animal. “ _Sweetheart_ , no one _knows_ anything about what their future holds. If you’d asked me when I was your age what my life would be like now, I couldn’t guess in a _million years_ what the truth would be. But you can’t let that uncertainty, that _fear_ , stop you from being open to happiness.”

And then Eddie is right in front of Peter, inches away, slowly raising his hands until he settles them gently on Peter’s shoulders while all Peter can do is just _look at him_ with his eyes wet and his throat tight with emotion.

“I promise you,” Eddie murmurs. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to abandon you. I promise I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure I’m not another good thing you end up losing.”

Peter shuts his eyes tightly and swallows. “We barely know each other.”

“I know.” He hears Eddie say.

“I’m...I’m afraid that what I don’t know might hurt me.”

Eddie is quiet for a long moment. “I haven’t lied to you.”

And his tone is so even and yet so... _loaded_ with something behind it that it has Peter opening his eyes to see Eddie looking at him with a serious, blank expression that’s nearly unreadable. “But you’re...hiding something. Something other than just the—the normal stuff people who’ve just met don’t know about each other.”

Eddie hesitates. “Yes.”

Peter eyes him searchingly. “Something bad?”

Eddie lets out a huff of a laugh with not a trace of humor in it. “That really depends on your definition of bad.”

Peter frowns at _that_ non-answer.

Eddie grimaces at the expression and his hands slide off Peter’s shoulders, down his arms leaving goosebumps in their wake, until finally they’re off of Peter entirely and Peter is left feeling nothing but colder for it. “A long time ago, I....met someone who was in trouble with a very powerful man in the capital, trouble they didn’t deserve to be in. I helped them to get away but the situation, it was...volatile. The man was _very_ angry over it...we couldn’t stay. It wasn’t safe to. That’s why we’re in this village, living so out of the way.”

It’s a lot for Peter to take in, informational and so  _vague_ at the same time, but the one word of it that his mind sticks to is--

“We?” Peter questions. “This person is still here? In the village?”

Eddie’s face twists into a look Peter can’t even _begin_ to identify. “They’re...not really a person.”

And that---

Yeah, Peter has no clue what that means. “If they’re not a person then what are they?”

“Do you believe in magic?” Eddie asks him instead of answering and all Peter can do is just blink at him stupidly.

Did he believe in _magic_?

“Like....alchemy, herbalism---”

“Like summoning demons.” Eddie says bluntly and Peter just---

Peter really isn’t sure when he lost the thread of this conversation.

He shakes his head, confused, and laughs nervously. “Eddie, I....I don’t know what we’re talking about anymore.”

Eddie winces at that and runs a shaky hand over his head. “I know you don’t and I know this is going to sound... _completely_ insane but I just need you to listen, okay?”

That shoe Peter thought was over his head earlier? It’s _definitely_ there now. Peter can practically feel the sole of it crashing into his skull already.

But he can _listen._ He can listen and he can _hope_ that whatever it is that Eddie has to tell him, whatever insane thing it is, won’t be that bad. That it won’t change how he feels and turn it into the bitter disappointment he dreads it will.

_This entire situation is already insane. How much weirder can it really get?_

And fuck.

Peter really wishes he hadn’t just thought that.

“Okay.” He agrees, nodding with confidence he doesn’t actually feel. “Okay, I’ll listen.”

Eddie nods back and takes in a deep breath. “Alright...alright, ah.” He licks his lips nervously and the just blurts it out in one rushed sentence. “I’m the knight you’re looking for.”

And that---

That is so far away from _any_ possibility Peter had even begun to imagine for what Eddie might say that he can’t do anything but stare at Eddie blankly.

Eddie who isn’t done yet by _far_.

“The man in the capital I told you about is the King and when I was a knight, he summoned a demon. He wanted--” Eddie breaks off to laugh, such a harsh and cold sound that it has Peter tensing. “ _Fuck_ , wealth, immortality, the whole damned world I guess. But this demon wouldn’t help the King and so he became obsessed with making them help, so obsessed that he stayed in the damned tower he put the demon in for weeks on end trying to interrogate the creature until his advisers finally got fed up with it. They told me that there was a cursed item in the tower that had the King bewitched and that if I went there to steal it while the King wasn’t there, I would be saving him and the entire Kingdom with him. I didn’t believe that, of course, and so they found a way to suitably threaten me into it. So I go up to the tower and not only is the King still there but the cursed item isn’t an item at all, but a living thing in a glass box. The King was angry with me for coming into the tower, we fought, it got physical, and in the scuffle the box broke and the demon went inside of me. We fled, we hid in the capital for awhile until some friends found a way for us to leave, and we never went back.”

Eddie is breathing wildly by the time he’s done, wide-eyed and animated, and all Peter can do is just stare at him.

And stare.

And stare _some more_.

Shoe.

Dropping.

Peter can feel the back of his head pulsing from where it landed.

 _I am the only person on the planet who could fall in love with a madman at first sight._ He thinks faintly.

Maybe he should believe in magic. What else could explain this absolute _horrible_ luck he had if not for him being cursed at birth? _No one_ was this unlucky, no one could possibly be, not even Peter, there had to come a point where shitty luck just wasn’t natural anymore.

Eddie swallows hard enough for it to be audible in the silence between them, his face pale and skittish. “I ah...told you it would sound insane.”

Peter didn’t know if insane was an extreme enough word for it.

“You think you have a demon in you.” Peter says tonelessly. “Like. An actual demon.”

“Their name is Venom?” Eddie offers almost meekly and while Peter can barely think of what to say to the fact that this supposed demon has a _name_ , Eddie is rushing to say, “I know how all this sounds but I _can_ prove it.”

Peter laughs incredulously. “How can you prove that? Do you have the shield in the story, the one I told you I was looking for?”

Eddies winces. “We actually---we destroyed that. Today. That’s where I was when I left, I was still planning to take you there tomorrow and I didn’t want you to see it, I---”

 _We_ again.

Peter can feel the pressure of a migraine behind his eyes pounding in time with his heartbeat. He sighs. “Of course you destroyed it.”

“But,” Eddie says. “I can still show you Venom.”

And he sounds so earnest when he says it, too. He sounds so _honest_ , and Peter can’t understand how a man who is lying --- who must be lying because how could something so ridiculous be the truth? --- can sound like he is doing anything but.

And that makes Peter think of something else. If Eddie sounds honest _now_ , then what does that say about every other time Peter had thought about how honest he was? How genuine? How sincere?

Does it mean all of that was a lie, too?

That _everything_ had been a lie since the second they met?

Peter swallows hard and viciously punches that thought back where it came from. This conversation was difficult enough without having it from the deep _pit_ of emotion Peter would find himself in if he let that particular worry take over his mind.

“You can show me the demon.” Peter repeats lamely and then figures, why not? There would _be_ nothing to show and Eddie would have to admit that and then maybe---

Peter doesn’t know what comes after maybe.

“Alright then.” He says. “Show me this demon. Show me---Venom”

Eddies lets out a shaky breath and nods. “Okay, just---just don’t be scared, alright? I promise they won’t hurt you---that _we_ won’t hurt you. I promise you.”

Peter nods back and waits, not knowing quite what it is he’s waiting _for_.

He just stands there and watches Eddie, watches his head tilt like he’s lost in his thoughts, watches his jaw clench, watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, watches nothing even remotely _demonic_ happen like he _knew_ nothing would---

Until something does.

One second the skin of Eddie’s neck is golden, _human_ and the next---the next there’s an inky black substance coming from it, thick and glossy and spreading, growing, moving like liquid from _out_ of Eddie.

It grows outward in a spherical shape until it’s the size of a human head an then out of the blackness, a mouth opens to show a row of white, sharp teeth.

And then above the mouth two large white shapes blink open. Eyes.

Eyes like the ones Eddie had for a split second the first time they met back at the inn, the ones Peter had thought he’d imagined seeing from being so tired and forgotten about because of how charming Eddie was.

Peter stares into them, at the---the thing, the _demon_ if Eddie is honest and Peter thinks he _must_ be now, the evdence for it literally _looking him in the face_ , and his own eyes widen when the dripping tip of a long togue flicks out from the creature’s mouth and runs along their teeth.

“Peter.” Eddie says softly, cautiously. The same tone he’d used earlier when he was approaching Peter like a skittish animal. “Peter, this is Venom.”

Peter doesn’t---

Peter doesn’t know what he’s supposed to _say_ to that. He can’t help but keep staring at the---at Venom as Venom stares back at him until they’re letting out a loud hiss that makes Peter nearly jump out of his skin.

And then their mouth is _moving_ , _**“Hello, Peter.”**_

Peter squeaks, body jumping back quickly until his back hits the work table and he has to reach back with his palms to steady himself so he doesn’t fall to the ground. “You can talk?!”

Their head rears back like they’re _offended_. _**“Of course we can talk! We are not stupid!”**_

Peter’s heart hammers in his chest and then Eddie sighs and Peter’s attention is suddenly dragged back to him.

“You have a—a _demon_ growing out of your _neck_!” Peter yells the obvious.

“ _ **We prefer,”**_ Venom snarls at him. _**“to be called a symbiote.”**_

“Ven.” Eddie says and his tone is tired but...but fond, almost.

Peter just looks at them, together, at how the _symbiote_ is attached to Eddie like a living scarf and how Eddie doesn’t look even the slightest bit unused to it.

“How long have you had them in you?” Peter asks faintly.

Eddie lets out a long breath and his lips twitch at whatever he’s remembering. “Twenty years now, almost. I was about your age when---when we first bonded.”

 _Bonded._ Peter thinks. It sounds so...intimate.

And then Peter suddenly remembers something himself.

“Are you telling me they were in you when we---?” He can’t finish the sentence, his face blushing with heat just thinking about it.

Eddie looks confused for a moment but then he’s clearing his throat, expression switching to one of discomfort and his own face flushing pink.

Venom laughs in a way that Peter can only describe as _mocking_ , their lipless mouth spreading in a grin. _**“Yes, we were there and we saw everything.”**_

“Venom!” Eddie scolds, voice thick with exasperation while Peter’s face just _burns_ with heat. “Peter, I’m sorry, I---”

“This is what you meant when you said there are things I needed to know before we could be together like that.” Peter realizes.

Eddie cringes. “Yes and I’m sorry I let it get as far as it did, it wasn’t fair to—to touch you when you didn’t know---”

“And what,” Peter asks flatly. “did you think would happen when you did tell me? Would it have been fair then?“

Eddie bites at his bottom lip and looks at Peter with a gaze full of warmth that Peter just---just _hates_ himself for feeling comforted by right now. “I didn’t know what would happen, I just...hoped that I could be honest with you and that you would be able to accept me --- to accept us.”

Peter scrubs a hand over his face and exhales softly. “Because you’re a package deal. You and your---Venom.”

“ _ **Yes, we are.”**_ Venom is the one who answers him, their answer firm and immovable. No room for argument.

Peter swallows and resists the urge to laugh hysterically at how _absurd_ his life is right now. “And where am I in all of that? When you hoped I could accept you? What’s my place in it? What did you _expect_ from me?”

“I don’t expect anything.” Eddie says softly, kindly, so genuine as he’s always been that it makes Peter want to bite his own tongue off. “What happens is entirely up to you, Peter. I told you I wouldn’t hurt you and I wouldn’t abandon you and---and I won’t. Whatever happens, whatever you want to do, that’s your decision and I’ll respect it. I won’t break my promises. So, tell me, Peter: what do you want to do?”

It’s a good question.

Peter wishes he knew the answer.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is the last chapter for this particular story! I know the length of this chapter is short compared to the first part but I didn’t want to write a really long fic that goes on forever and just wanted to give this part of the story some kind of hopeful resolution even if it’s not a very long one, so I hope I delivered at least a little on that. While this story is ending, though, the series isn’t – I’ll be writing more in this ‘verse some time and we’ll see what happens after this in another work so subscribe to the series if you’re interested in that and thank you to everyone who has supported this story so far! I hope you have a Merry Christmas if you celebrate or a happy Tuesday if you don’t! Until next time!

What Peter should do is obvious: leave.

Just walk out the door, away from Eddie and away from the de---Venom. Away from _Venom_. Away from this entire _insane_ situation.

He should go back to his village, tell Harry about what he’d found out and collect whatever reward the King saw fit to give to him. Use it to buy back Aunt May’s house, start a career, start a _life_.

_That’s_ what Peter should do. It’s the smart thing to do. 

It also leaves a bad taste in Peter’s mouth to even _think_ of doing it.

Eddie had misled him and had planned on misleading him even more. Eddie had _kissed_ Peter while another living being was inside of him watching and experiencing the whole thing without Peter’s knowledge.

Eddie had also _helped_ Peter, had taken him in, had been so... _kind_ to Peter, even before he knew about Peter’s stupid quest to find him. And maybe Peter is every bit as ominous as Harry always teased him of being but he’s still not nearly ominous enough to think that all of Eddie’s kindness was fake, a manipulation.

Peter’s no optimist but he’s not a bad judge of character, either, and right now his judgment is telling him that Eddie Brock _isn’t_ a bad person. If he were then he never would have confessed to Peter. A bad person would have taken Peter to those empty caves, let Peter think that the knight never existed, and then let their relationship continue without telling him about Venom for god knows how long, if ever.

Eddie isn’t a bad person, then. He’s just a good person who makes bad decisions.

And Peter wants to snort at that conclusion, really.

That makes two of them, he supposes. What a match they were.

And as Peter starts feeling a bi lighter, starts feeling what he thinks is _forgiveness_ wash over him, he thinks he’s got a good dozen or so bad decisions more to make.

 

\-------

 

Peter watches Eddie watching him, watches how _concerned_ the man looks and how soft his gaze is as he looks at Peter.

Peter watches Venom watching him, watches how...well, Peter isn’t exactly sure what Venom’s expression means, only that it reminds him a bit of the look the mother cat that lived on the grounds of Osborn Manor used to give to anyone who got too close to where she had her kittens stashed. Protective, he thinks. Wary. Protective of Eddie and wary of Peter.

And Peter knows nothing of demons in general and nothing of whatever or _whoever_ Venom is specifically or what they are to Eddie, but Peter doesn’t think that them caring about Eddie is a bad thing.

So Peter watches them and _watches_ them and then he finally breaks the silence with a sigh and decides to make the first bad decision of many.

“Is there anything else you’re keeping from me?” He directs the question at Eddie, keeping his voice stern even as it sounds exhausted to Peter’s own ears. “I mean, not just the _normal_ things I wouldn’t know yet but anything you _know_ I would be upset to find out about later?”

Eddie eyes him carefully, the concern still on his face but his eyes spark with something that Peter can tell is the beginnings of _hope_ even from where he stands. “There—no. _No_ , Peter, there’s nothing else.”

“Are you _sure_?” Peter stresses the word and clenches his fists back against the table he’s still leaning on to stop the shaking he can feel running through them. “Because I’m telling you right now that if in a month or a year or however long from now I find out you lied to me about anything – and I mean _anything_ else – I’m not going to forgive you for a second time.”

Eddie blinks and the corner of his mouth twitches up and back down again like a spasm. “Meaning you forgive me this time?”

Peter glares at him and Eddie huffs out a wet laugh, biting down on his lip to hide his smile to no avail. Peter can still _see_ it.

“I promise you,” Eddie says, sincerity ringing in his words. “There’s nothing else. I’m---I’m extremely sure that there’s nothing else.”

Peter levels a searching look at him for a moment longer and then he slides it over to Venom, still protruding like a serpent from Eddie’s skin, still watching Peter with those white eyes.

“And—and _you_ , Venom?” Peter asks them. “Is there anything you need to tell me?”

Venom’s tongue flicks in Peter’s direction and their mouth stretches into a very _sharp,_ toothy grin. _**“If you harm us in any way I will eat your face off your skull.**_ _ **”**_

Peter stares at them in wide-eyed horror  just  as Eddie closes his eyes tightly shut in exasperation. 

“And,” Peter’s voice cracks and he clears his throat nervously. “if I—I don’t harm you?”

Venom lets out a hiss that Peter thinks--- _ hopes _ \---is their version of a sigh and not some kind of warning _.  _ _**“You will grow on** _ _**me** _ _**,** _ _**I** _ _**suppose.”** _

Eddie lets out a sigh himself, a human one, and opens his eyes, flashing Peter a tired smile. “What they mean is that they’ll come to appreciate you as much as I do.”

“ _ **I did not say that!”**_ Venom snarls, vicious enough to make Peter flinch from it.

Eddie, though, only rolls his eyes, smile only growing to Peter’s amazement and total confusion. “ It’ll take some time, that’s all.”

“Right.” Peter says faintly, eyes darting between the two of them. “Time, sure.”

Eddie looks at Peter softly and opens his mouth to say something but whatever it is is stopped by a wide yawn that reminds Peter of how exhausted he is himself.

“Maybe now it’s just time for bed?” He suggests.

Eddie blinks at him sleepily. “Bed? Yeah, that’s---are you sure you’re okay with that?”

And it takes Peter a second to understand what Eddie means because he’s _more_ than okay with crawling into the large, soft bed and passing out after this day but then he remembers---

Oh, right.

There’s still only the _one_ bed.

\-------

 

They end up sharing the bed again, of course.

Peter’s hyper aware that it’s bad decision number two _immediately_ but as he and Eddie go through an even more awkward version of their “you take the bed” / “no you take it” dance from the previous night, Peter feels what’s left of his already weakened resolve to not jump back into this... _thing_ he has with Eddie so quickly crumble away and something like fondness for the man rising up to take its place.

And then Peter is so flushed from actually getting into the bed at the _same time_ as Eddie that he can’t really think of doing much of anything other than getting under the covers as quickly as possible as though that would somehow make him feel less clumsy and less...exposed.

It makes Peter feel marginally better that Eddie is so visibly awkward about it all, too. Venom had disappeared back into Eddie’s skin once they’d started debating who should sleep where – a sight that looked so _strange_ , somehow even more than it had looked when they had emerged from Eddie’s body, that Peter doesn’t know how he’ll eve get used to it – with what Peter was fairly sure was their version of a disgruntled groan, like they were tired of Peter and Eddie already, and Eddie had been a picture of nervousness the entire time after, up until he’d crawled under the covers himself and Peter had followed closely behind, hoping that his rattled nerves would calm enough to let him fall asleep quickly.

Which should happen any time now.

Really, _any_ time.

Just...fall asleep.

Close his eyes, slip into unconciousness, and wake up again hours later like he has a thousand times before.

...................….…

Peter opens his eyes with a sigh. Yeah, he’s not falling asleep.

And when Eddie murmurs from next to him, “You alright?”, Peter knows he’s not the only one.

He slants his gaze over to where Eddie lays on his back next to Peter, his hands interlaced on his chest, eyes still closed and face relaxed as though he’s actually asleep.

Peter looks away and returns his gaze to the ceiling.

“I’m fine.” He replies, using the same quiet tone Eddie had. “It’s just...been a strange few days.”

Eddie laughs softly. “Strange is a good a way to put it.”

“But I mean, you must be used to strangeness by now, right?” Peter ventures, unable to hold back his curiosity. “You said you’ve had...Venom for a long time. What’s it like?”

“Well. I suppose it’s a bit like...being married.”

Peter turns his head quickly to look back at Eddie in surprise, wrinkling his nose. “Being _married?_ ”

Eddie’s lips turn up in a grin. “If one shared a body with their spouse...in more than just the usual way.”

Peter’s face burns at the implication, but it’s not enough to quell his curiosity now that they’re talking about it, and Peter doesn’t know when or _if_ he’ll ever have the nerve to ask the questions he’s dying to ask later if he doesn’t do it now.

“Doesn’t that make seeing other people hard, though?” Peter thinks about earlier, the last time he and Eddie ( _and_ Venom, though he didn’t know it at the time) were in this bed and he feels his face heating even more, firmly glad that the room is dark enough that his blush wouldn’t be visible even if Eddie’s eyes were open. “Like... _being_ with other people when you have another...another _person_ inside of you?”

Eddie stays quiet for a long moment. “I wouldn’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I...haven’t exactly been with anyone other than Venom _since_ there was Venom, Peter.” He pauses, then adds on. “Not until you.”

And Peter feels...warm and weirdly flattered by that, but he can’t really focus on it because he’s too distracted by---

“Anyone _other_ than Venom?”

There’s really no way Eddie meant that the way it sounded, Peter thinks, he can’t mean that he’s been _with_ Venom the way he’s been with Peter or in the way he—he _wants_ to be with Peter. Peter had gotten his fill in of looking at Venom earlier and he doesn’t even know how something like that would be physically _possible._

Except that now his words have Eddie’s eyes finally blinking open and turning his head on the pillow to meet Peter’s. “It’s...a _lot_ like being married.”

Peter stares at him incredulously, looking for any hint that Eddie is joking or making fun of Peter but he finds none.

“What?” Peter blurts out before realizing that, no, _what_ isn’t the right question. “I mean, _how_? Like, literally _how_? I may have never done... _it_ before but I saw Venom earlier and I’m pretty sure they’re lacking the necessary parts or—or _any_ parts.”

Eddie snorts. “Venom can have other forms than what you saw before.”

“Other forms as in---”

“They can cover me like armor or form outside of me like before but with arms and legs, hands and feet, all the things you’d expect a person to have but just...bigger.”

Okay, that’s---surprising. Peter doesn’t know _how_ it’s surprising because, really, if demons exist then why should them being able to exist in a plethora of shapes and sizes be that much of a leap?

It’s just that Peter can’t even _imagine_ what Eddie is describing, it’s so far out of every frame of reference he has. He tries to, though, tries to imagine Eddie but with Venom over him, covering his skin with that inky blackness he saw earlier and a version of that white-eyed, sharp-toothed face covering his face. Peter tries to imagine that but standing _beside_ of Eddie – how big was _bigger_? Were they the same height? Did Venom tower _over_ Eddie? How large were their hands, their feet, their---

Peter chokes back a strangled noise and firmly closes the door on _that_ line of thought.

He was not going to think about how big Venom’s---

No. Just... _no_.

Except that once Peter _starts_ thinking about it he can’t exactly _stop_ and thinking about Venom...like _that_ leads to him thinking about Eddie _like that_ which leads to him thinking about Venom _and_ Eddie together.

_A lot like being married._

God,  Peter isn’t twelve, he knows what married couples  _did_ with each other.

And f or that matter, he thinks with a frown,  he also knows  married couples don’t generally d o those things  with anyone else  _but_ each other, either .

“You’re not telling me you...cheated on Venom when you kissed me, are you?” Peter asks uncertainly, giving Eddie a searching look. “Because I’m pretty sure me inadvertently being a homewrecker is one of those things I would be upset to find out you kept from me.”

Eddie, to Peter’s immediate relief, blanches at the question and denies it quickly. “No, that’s--- _no_ . Venom liked you enough when we met, Peter, they didn’t have a problem with...well, with  _you_ until  you told us what you were looking for, then they were just protective.” 

P eter’s pretty sure that  _protective_ is a mild way to put Venom threatening to eat Peter’s  _face_ , but still.

“Before that, though?” He presses. “I’m not just someone you wanted and they just...went along with it, right?”

“Venom isn’t the type to just go along with things they don’t want to do.”

“And I’m something they wanted to do?” Peter asks dryly despite himself, causing Eddie to bark out a startled laugh.

“We both have _impeccable_ taste, sweetheart.” Eddie grins at him winningly, then adds. “Venom liked your eyes.”

“My _eyes?_ ”

“Mmm. Said they reminded them of chocolate.”

Peter marvels at that statement for a minute before saying the first thing that comes to mind, “This entire... _thing_ has been the strangest thing I’ve ever been through in my  _entire_ life.”

Eddie  makes a quiet inquisitive noise . “Bad strange?”

“I don’t know.” Peter answers honestly. “Not...entirely. You lying to me has been the only bad part but we talked about that and...I think the rest is strange I can get used to.”

“Including Venom?” Eddie’s tone is quiet but Peter can tell how important the answer to that question is. 

Eddie and Venom were a package deal, that was obvious, and while Peter doesn’t really think anyone can ever really get  _used_ to someone like Venom…. “As long as my  _face_ stays on my skull where it’s supposed to be, I don’t see why not. You’re not...you’re not a bad person and I don’t think you’d be okay with having them with you for so long if they were that bad, either. You have  _impeccable_ taste, right?”

And Eddie looks at Peter with such a soft smile at that that Peter kinda wants to make another stupid decision and kiss it off his face. He restrains himself by barely a thread.

“I promise your face will stay exactly where it belongs, Peter.” Eddie says, absolutely genuine. “Cross my heart.”

Peter cracks a smile at that and turns his head away from Eddie to look back up at the ceiling. “Good, then we’ll just...take this slow. I guess.”

“Slow is good, Peter.” Eddie agrees, sighing wistfully. “Slow is _more_ than good, there’s no rush. For anything.”

“Well...good.” Peter says and means it. “That’s good.”

Eddie hums and Peter lets out a deep breath before he closes his eyes, thinking he can finally go to sleep now. 

_Except_ .

“Venom totally listened to that entire conversation, didn’t they?” Peter asks without bothering to open his eyes, already knowing the answer before Eddie confirms it.

“Every single word.”

Well...alright then. 

Peter supposes that’s just one of those strange things he’ll have to get used to. 

Eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> *looks in my plot holes* Anyone down there? Is Peter's horse with you?
> 
> Part 2 will be coming soonish.


End file.
